


03 Christmas Sorrows

by Merrianna



Series: Speed Burn [1]
Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Angst and Humor, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrianna/pseuds/Merrianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stella and Mac try to handle the first Christmas after the 9-11 attacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loneliest Time of Year (Prologue)

Spoiler: Yeah, random facts from CSI: New York.

Category: Angst, Romance and Humor; AU

Setting: AU: SpeedBurn: New York City: Right after 9-11, well before the Series starts.

Disclaimer: CSI: NY was created by Ann Donahue, Carol Mendelsohn, and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Motion Picture Production (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Productions (2004-2007), CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2004-2006), CBS Television Studios (2009-present), Clayton Entertainment, and Jerry Bruckheimer Television. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.

Note: In the SpeedBurn timeline series significant changes occur in various episodes, marking differences in each series. The initial drastically changed episodes are in chronological order: "Bait" (Without a Trace), "Reveille" (NCIS), "Lost Son" (CSI: Miami), "Bodies in Motion" (Crime Scene Investigation), "Summer in the City" (CSI: NY), and "In Name and Blood (In Birth and Death)" (Criminal Minds). Many episodes after those changed are also different. This story is number 3 in the grand scheme. Thank you.  
Feedback: Yes, please, especially constructive.

xxx

Because I miss you  
Most at Christmas time  
And I can't get you  
Get you off my mind  
by Mariah Carey

~~~@~~~

New York City was alight with Christmas lights from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Everywhere you turned there were the trappings of the season. Whether you were Christian, Jewish or some other denomination, there were decorations for whatever holiday you were celebrating. It was as if everyone sought to stem the depression that had fallen over the city due to the wreckage that used to be the World Trade Center.

On the fifty-third floor of the NYPD building, the head of the Crime lab stood looking out over the city that Mac Taylor had made his own. He was sleep deprived and a little worse for wear, having been through another day of cases that seemed to involve the dregs of New York, another reminder of man's inhumanity to man. He'd let his hair go and there was two days growth of facial hair on his chin. This was something that would never have happened before the Towers had fallen. By the end of November some people had said that he seemed to be getting better, but as December started and the city steadily became immersed in the holiday season, the man had fallen further back into depression. Those who had said he was getting better knew very little about the man. His partner of a little over three years, had known that it wasn't that he was getting over the death of his wife, but that he was shutting down any feeling that had to do with the people around him. He reserved a show of emotion for only those who were closest to him. The job was what drove him; it was all he would allow himself to have.

Stella strolled up to the open door of Mac's office. She was determined that he wouldn't spend this first Christmas without Claire alone. That was something that the dead woman wouldn't have wanted for her husband. She had been a woman who enjoyed life and everything that came with it. She had loved holidays, not just Christmas, but Halloween, Thanksgiving, New Years, even St. Patrick's Day... the only one that didn't make the list of important days was Valentine's; she had said it was silly that people needed a holiday to tell their loved ones that they loved them; what did they do the rest of the year? Stella could still hear Claire's voice when she'd said it, too. It brought a small sad smile to her lips.

"Knock, Knock." Stella said, interrupting Mac's quiet contemplation of New York and the open space that used to be dominated by two reflective buildings.

"Hey, Stella. Going home?" Mac stayed as he was, as if he didn't have enough energy to face the curly-haired woman who'd entered.

Stella contemplated the man for a moment before replying, "Yeah... Why don't you come with me? We could order take-out Chinese and watch something on TV? What do you say?"

Slowly he turned away from the window, looking over to where Stella stood. From her point of view he looked a little dazed. It lasted for a few minutes before he shook his head. "No thanks, I've got some paperwork to go over."

Frowning, Stella walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Mac, there's nothing on your desk that can't wait. I promise that you'll be able to make it in tomorrow without too much of a headache. Besides, I really don't want to be alone." Stella knew it was a dirty trick, but she was determined that he wouldn't be spending the holiday in the office doing paper work.

Mac gazed at her for several minutes before he sighed and nodded his acquiescence. He laid a hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.

Stella removed her hand with a smile on her face. She refrained from rubbing her hand as it tingled from the touch of her friend's bare hand. She fought with herself over feelings that she had thought were gone. Now was certainly not the time to have them resurface; after all, his wife had only just died.

She focused instead on having won a small victory in getting Mac to put his work on hold for one night.

They silently went to the locker rooms and gathered up their things before heading out to the snow-covered streets of New York.

Continued in Chapter One: Too Much Christmas Cheer


	2. Too Much Christmas Cheer

Mac didn't know how he got talked into going to Stella's apartment. Well that wasn't quite true; he knew, but he just didn't want to admit that he also hadn't wanted to be alone with only his memories of Claire. Christmas time had been her most favorite time of the year. She would go all out: from trimming a tree, to handing out presents, and even making a full Christmas dinner. The last few years they'd included Stella in their holiday festivities. It seemed only natural, then, that Stella had invited him to her place, even with her rule about no men in her apartment.

He'd been to Stella's apartment before, but that was when Claire was with him. He remembered a particularly long shopping trip that they had dragged him on so that he could carry a number of packages for them. Both had tried on at least a hundred different outfits, which they had 'Oohed' and 'Ahed' over in the dressing room, not once coming out to show him. They had then proceeded to pile boxes and bags on him. He'd put up with it even if he'd grumbled at the time; he'd enjoyed himself immensely, seeing both women getting carried away with buying. It was at Claire's insistence that they went to Stella's place, which was closer, and did a little fashion show for him. Claire's enthusiasm had been infectious which had Stella agreeing without any trouble.

Little had changed, except now as he entered Stella's apartment it was only the two of them; a man still in mourning for his wife and a woman grieving for the loss of a friend and the widower which remained.

"Mac? Mac, you can take off your coat," Stella ordered as she set the bag of take-out on her dining table; her eyes, though, were on her partner. As she shrugged out of her own coat she inquired, "What should we have with this?" Stella moved with grace as she went about gathering plates and utensils.

"Anything," came the mumbled reply.

Stella sighed inwardly as she opened a cabinet door and found that she had a bottle of red wine, a twelve pack of beer, which only had ten cans left, and half a container of Irish whiskey left over from the last time he and Claire had been over.

"Well, how about some red wine with dinner?" Stella asked, which only got her a silent nod in agreement.

That's how it started: a glass of red wine with the Chinese meal; they finished the bottle off before the meal was over. Stella had also gotten a desert and with that they started on the beer; they had by then moved over to the couch in front of the television. It was during the cheesy sci-fi movie about rampaging grasshoppers that they went through the last of the ten cans.

As the credits appeared on screen Mac shifted his gaze out of Stella's apartment window. The blaze of flickering lights of the Christmas trees in the opposite building brought up memories that he had been avoiding: the image of a blue-eyed little girl with loose brown curls standing in front of a Christmas tree, smiling up at a woman with joy and laughter.

"Mac?" He turned back to his companion. Her slender hand came up to stroke his cheek, which he just realized was wet.

"Stella, did Claire and I ever tell you why we came to New York?" the dark-haired man's voice was rough with sadness, and his eyes didn't seem to be focusing on anything.

Stella swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat at the pain in her friend's face. "No, you didn't."

Without conscious thought he downed the last of his beer, "You know it would be Maggie's fourth Christmas this year."

"Maggie?" Stella's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion over what Mac was talking about. 'Who was Maggie and how did that pertain to why Mac and Claire had moved to New York City?'

Mac was lost in his own thoughts, not hearing his partner's query, but just continued to talk, "Claire would buy things for her every year. Not toys, really, more like keepsakes. It was something she had mentioned that day... she was planning on seeing if there was anything out... She hadn't been able to buy something for her this year." More tears appeared moving down into his day's growth of stubble.

Stella just sat next to him letting him ramble even when she could barely follow what he was saying. To have him say anything was a Christmas miracle in itself.

"I've this picture in my head of what it would have looked like on Christmas morning: this impatient little girl with sleep tossed curls jumping into bed with Claire and me; both of us a little sleep deprived from trying to get her into bed the night before and also from staying up to put the gifts from Santa Claus under the tree while trying to be quiet; the excitement in Maggie's voice as she enlightens us about all the presents under the tree."

Mac never noticed Stella getting up, though he barely acknowledged the removal of the empty beer can, which was replaced with a glass of whiskey. The brief thought went through his mind that he shouldn't try to 'drown his sorrows' in alcohol but at that moment he didn't really care. The pain of the loss of his wife coupled with that of his daughter were almost choking in their intensity. He knocked back the dusky brown liquid, feeling the sharp kick of the alcohol but ignoring it.

"We... Claire and I, we couldn't handle being in Chicago anymore without Maggie. Stella, she was so small when she was born. I was terrified that I'd break her. She... she had... been only 16 hours old when she was kidnapped right out of the Chicago hospital. Practically stolen right out of Claire's arms." Mac couldn't contain the sob that erupted from deep inside his chest.

Stella sat watching, a little unsure what she could or should do for the desolate man before her. After only a moment's hesitation, she went with her instincts; wrapping her arms around the blue-eyed man, she pulled him down into a comforting embrace. The sobbing increased even as Mac made a half-hearted attempt to get away. Stella held on giving her grieving partner all the strength she could without succumbing to the tears that threatened to overflow from her own eyes.

They stayed in that position for a long time, once Mac finally let go of his tightly held control; Stella then provided a safe port in the storm of emotions that had been released. The momentary loss of restraint had the ex-marine feeling foolish and more than a little embarrassed at how he broke down in front of his best friend. His red-rimmed eyes briefly met the sympathetic green ones; he was relieved when there wasn't a trace of pity in them, only the endless amounts of kindness.

Stella gave him an encouraging, watery smile and waited, patiently, knowing that the weary man would finish his story if only to relieve himself of some of the burden that he had been bearing for the last few months.

Several minutes passed with neither of them saying a word. Mac eventually continued not wanting his friend to think that he and Claire had abandoned the search. "I still keep in touch with the detective that has her missing person case open in Chicago. I still ask myself... 'Who would take someone else's child?' What makes a person so desperate?"

"I know the experts say there are several reasons for it but you know it really doesn't matter what the reason is. What they did is wrong, and they will be caught and punished for it. And I know that you'll find your daughter... yours and Claire's. It won't matter how long it takes, Mac. I'll be here for whatever support you need." Even with the revelations that Stella had unconsciously revealed that night she felt that Mac had more that he wasn't telling, but she wouldn't push.

Mac was getting uncomfortable with what had happened to alleviate it, "So, Stella, do you have any other bad movie to go with this." He gestured toward the bottle of whiskey.

A little taken aback but willing to change the subject, Stella pursed her lips, "What do you mean 'bad movie'? That one was a sci-fi cinema classic. You want a bad movie I'm sure I can comply with a horrid bit of film called 'Mitchell' but to not be totally bored I have it in the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version."

Deciding that the movie would make a great drinking game, Stella made it that whenever the hecklers of the film said the main character's name they would have to take a drink. By the end of the movie the bottle of whiskey was gone.

"Hmm, thank you for everything, but I think it's time I went home." Mac sounded almost coherent. It wasn't until he stood that the complete effect of all the alcohol showed. He made it only to the stairs where, due to the wavering in his vision, Mac completely missed the step and fell down on his butt. Stella, who had been watching from her couch giggled a little even as she sympathized with his predicament.

"Oh, Mr. Taylor, I don't think you're going anywhere," Stella stated through fits of giggles. She also got up, swaying slightly. She steadied herself, getting used to the difference between sitting and standing, then she walked cautiously over to her partner. "Come on, Mac." She tried to help him up.

He held up his hands, which she took, trying to get leverage on the big rug. Stella pulled, but at the same time Mac pulled, causing her to lose her balance, toppling on top of him. "Oh, ouch!" Mac's voice came out in complaint at the fact that Stella's knee, hit him in the thigh and an elbow came down on his head. They were pressed together awkwardly, with the green-eyed woman's legs between his and his face squashed just below her breasts.

Struggling to get upright, Stella continued laughing, "Well it serves you right for pulling me down." There was more awkward shifting until the slender Greek woman was once again on her feet. She contemplated her partner, who made quite a picture: hair mused, clothes askew, sprawled on the floor, like a little boy who had played himself into exhaustion. The curly-haired woman's lips twitched then spread into a full-blown smile at the sight.

Mac looked up, seeing the smile on the green-eyed woman's face and was tempted to tug Stella back down onto the floor next to him to get even. "Is this how you help a friend in need?"

The question brought forth more amused giggles; it wasn't the question itself but the way in which it had been expressed with a sulky, puppy dog look and just the slightest whine in Mac's normally commanding voice. "My dear Mr. Taylor, I'm letting you stay the rest of night... however much that might be. Besides it wasn't me who put you on the floor." The equally drunk woman stated as she reprimanded him by wagging a forefinger in his direction.

Mac watched said finger before taking action. With marine reflexes he grabbed the offending appendage and, bringing it to his face, he placed a gentle kiss on it. "For which I am truly grateful, Stella Bonasera."

With that said Stella gave the dark-haired man a sloppy grin and got down to the business of helping him stand. There were more missed steps and bumping into furniture as they also turned off lights as they went before they finally made it to the bedside.  
Mac incredibly was able to actually sit down without ending back on the floor. "Look we made it," the blue-eyed man cheered, throwing his arms wide.

"Ha um, Mac, lets get this shirt off." Stella was lucid enough to settle him in her bed, leaving him in pants and undershirt. Gazing down at her friend, the solemn-eyed woman just shook her head, curls bouncing, at the drunkenness of the man. She moved to bring up the blanket to cover him when he grabbed her wrist and maneuvered the startled brunette, dragging her down and across himself so that in the end they were laying with Mac's face laying on Stella's stomach. "A very good friend," Mac murmured sleepily. The warm vibration sent a pleasant tingle down the green-eyed woman's spine. From her position it was impossible to move out from under the large man, especially since he had fallen asleep and had his left arm wrapped around her hip, using her as a pillow.

With mild irritation Stella reached across the side of the bed grasping for one of her fluffy pillows, deciding to make herself comfortable. Her slender fingers stroked through the wavy brown curls that were usually so short as to be non-existent. "Hmm, Merry Christmas, Mac." she sighed sleepily as she too drifted off to sleep.

Continued in Chapter Two: Of Dreams and Torment


	3. Of Dreams and Torment

Disclaimer: CSI: NY was created by Ann Donahue, Carol Mendelsohn, and Anthony E. Zuiker and produced by Alliance Atlantis Communications (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Motion Picture Production (2004-2007), Alliance Atlantis Productions (2004-2007), CBS Paramount Network Television (2006-2009), CBS Productions (2004-2006), CBS Television Studios (2009-present), Clayton Entertainment, and Jerry Bruckheimer Television. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.

~~~@~~~

Feather light caresses enticed Stella, to semi-wakefulness. She whimpered at the fleeting touches by calloused hands, left her wanting more. A low rumble that resembled a purr vibrated across her bare abdomen, which was followed by a warm moist kiss that began to travel upward pushing the fabric of her shirt up. The firm pressure of lips and tongue on her heated flesh had her gasping in pleasure. In reflex Stella reached for the cause of her euphoric state, thrusting her fingers into soft wavy hair.

Stella's green-eyes fluttered open, only to close once again with a blissful moan as the man's skilled mouth placed wet kisses, on her left breast, through her lace bra. She arched up unconsciously seeking a firmer contact with the male body which hovered above her own.

She was reward when the man settled between her thighs, pressing his hard and unyielding desire against her clothed center. Stella exhaled a groan of aching need for more, she shifted her long legs further apart then wrapped them around her mystery lover, bring them into closer union.

Her dream lover's low rumble of appreciation pulsated through his mouth all the while still working on the now wet white lace encased flesh. His tongue and teeth continued to brush and nip the confined tender skin arousing another passion-filled gasp of pleasure from her.

"Um... take it off." Stella demanded on a drawn out moan. Normally she would have done it herself but her hands were already busy trying to find the edge of the man's shirt so she could run her hands over his hard muscled body. Just as she thought she would go insane over his ministration on her left breast he disengaged from it, his heated breath wafted over the veiled swollen mound which strained against the now translucent lace. When he didn't move for a few seconds, Stella briefly thought that her demand would be met, but instead of removing her shirt and bra he dropped more open mouth kiss across, the small piece of material that held the flimsy clothing together, for the opposite un-as-yet touched mound.

A whimper of pleasure and annoyance burst forth from Stella as he dealt her right breast the same unrelenting treatment as the left. Uncontrollably one of her hands tangled once again into the wavy locks urging him on completely abandoning her previous thoughts about having the clothing taken out of the equation.

Where his hands had only been delightfully tracing light trails up and down her bare sides and across her stomach and abdomen. The right one suddenly seemed to get a mind of its own as it grew firmer and proceeded to travel up the left side of her body pausing to graze at the laced covered side of her breast then away before finally returning and with expert precision he undid the front clasp then proceed to engulfing the soft mound fully. The artful appendage began massage the soft curvature with the palm then easing back to pluck at the already aroused bud. The process kept in time with his lips and teeth that were endeavoring to surpass the physical response that was earlier expressed by her. Stella wasn't in the least displeased with the attention that the man was lavishing on her. She quivered with desire in tuned with her body as it was screaming for another assault to her senses. She didn't have long to wait; she had been so focused on three areas of her body that were being cleverly manipulated, that she'd forgotten her companion's other hand. A distracting tug at her lower abdomen sent a different but accelerating electric through her system. Her eyelids flicker but remained closed as she reveled in every sensation that came only from the sound and touch of her lover.

Stella groaned her approval as the clever calloused fingers were the first to skirt below the tight waistband of her slacks. They brushed lightly at the still cover flesh beneath, which trembled with anticipation for additional pressure and exposure. Her body got what it desired after several minutes of teasing and Stella's own attempted at making him do what she wanted. Instead of getting what she craved he held back leaving the area to once again tantalize her sides, the flat of her stomach and the indention of her navel. He made sure to taunt her with light strokes before evade the area for another part of her body. A few times he went so far up that he cupped the underside of breast that he was tormenting with his mouth. It seemed to Stella that her lover was striving to make her beg for him by tantalizing her with his teasing mouth and hands.

After several more agonizing minutes, Stella couldn't take anymore her whole body was in desperate need of release that she was positive that only the man, she'd yet to look at, could unleash. The prideful detective bit her lip to keep from screaming even as she swore in practice Greek. Undone by the building hunger that her seducer had generated Stella began to beg. "Please... I need... uhn... I need you now. Please."

"All you needed to do was ask." the low raspy murmur tickled across her ultra sensitive breast making the peak ache with the neglect.

With those words the flirting hand moved caressing down playing briefly with the waistband of her trouser before without preamble plunging straight to her body's pulsing apex. Nimble fingers circumvent the material to get to the heated interior beneath. The long callused digits stroked lightly over her for only a few seconds then quickly ventured further causing Stella's body shudder on its first orgasm as he pushed against her sensitive core.

She writhed under the onslaught that was now being waged on her body. Her whole being continued to convulse with each new encounter of the mystery man's hands and mouth. He seemed to take great delight to see how many times she went over the peak to be brought there again... an again. Eventually, he'd had enough of the foreplay wanting to join his partner in the throes of the utter consumption of body and souls.

In a desperate eagerness clothes were impatiently pushed haphazardly open and aside with an urgency that came from the mounting desire to be physical joined. Stella's shirt and bra quickly disappeared leaving, the tall brunette trembling, and nude from the waist up. Instinctively, she felt her lover's eyes devouring her exposed flesh. She unashamedly stretched the sound of a quick indrawn breath followed by a shake expulsion sent a wave of ecstasy through the curly-haired woman. She became instantly aware of his return that seemed if possible more enthusiastic, peppering kisses closed and open mouthed from her neck down to her collarbone continuing to her breasts stopping to pay homage briefly before skimming further downward brushing heated lips along the barrier comprised of her pants before lowering them down. Stella franticly gripped onto her lover's hair tugging him back up for a searing kiss dragging his sweat soaked t-shirt off disengaging momentarily to do so. Her hands glided over harden muscle until it came at last to the last barrier with unaccustomed clumsiness the fevered woman unfasten and pushed away last obstacle.  
As their bodies moved as one, his hardened flesh fitting perfectly into her own soft conforming one. The pronounced rush of feelings of completeness and being home overcame Stella. It was then that she finally lifted heavy eyelids so to look upon her ethereal companion.

Even through the blissful buzz that comprised most of the brunette's thoughts, one stray strand forced its way into the forefront. That Mac... her friend's widow and her own best friend was the one she had been deriving such extreme pleasure from. It both seemed right and wrong at the same time: right because she'd never felt so good before except once and he'd married someone else but it was wrong he... they had just lost Claire only three and half months earlier. Like any catholic raised girl guilt edged into the pulsing need and passion of the moment.

"Mac! Mac, we need to stop." even as she said the words another wave of overpowering pleasure raced through her. Instead of him stopping he moved faster and started kissing her neck up to her mouth plundering it making her lose all sense of reason and nagging guilt. Stella threw away caution immersing herself in being with the one man who she knew in other circumstance would never be hers.

Stella moaned as their bodies pressed and moved as one. They fit so perfectly from the legs up, there was none of the awkwardness that she normally felt with the first time. As their bodies moved rhythmically towards the ultimate goal. Hands were grasping and caressing not letting the other go for a minute. The sound of passion-filled breathes were stilled when lips met and angled for deeper demanded only to be heard again when the need for air had them separating.

When Mac released inside of her, to cement home that truth of her previous worries, instead of her name coming from his lips. The low rumbling voice had called for a dead woman. Stella reached the same earth shattering peak moaning out her partner's name even as her heart was breaking.

"Claire." The dark haired man repeated as he drifted off to sleep. Unaware of the pain he was inflicting on someone he had also grown to care very much about.

~~~@~~~

Stella stifled the sad and anger shout that wanted to erupt as she pushed and pulled to get out from beneath her partner. After several minutes she finally managed to escape from under Mac. Stella hurriedly made her way to the bathroom. Once, there she let herself collapse into a heap on the floor. Tears were silently streaming down her face as she mental tried to get hold of herself.

The first sound to emerge was a slight hysterical laugh as she finally stood to start the water in the shower running. It was just then that she realized that in their rush she and Mac hadn't completely removed their clothes. Her work pants were just above her knees and she continued to laugh since she hadn't noticed it even as she fled her bed leaving her partner sleeping. The image that presented brought on another bout of crying this not so quiet. She quickly got into the shower not care what the water's temperature maybe.  
Stella shuddered under the barrage of hot water cascading down on her which masked the sobs that were wrenched from the depths of her heart. Her body still pulsed with satisfaction but her mind was weighed down with the knowledge that she wasn't the real recipient of Mac Taylor's amorous desire. She repeatedly slapped her open hand against the wall berating herself for disregarding the possible consequences and just letting herself get carried away with how the man she'd known and cared for had made her feel.  
Stella, couldn't deny that she'd enjoyed it what wasn't to enjoy. The fact that it shouldn't have happened or that she half-regretted that it would never again. 'You're going to burn in hell.'

The water eventually turned cold, shivering Stella turned off the spigot grabbing on of the fluffy towels she began to dry off. Grabbing the terry cloth robe on the back of the bathroom door Stella wrapped herself in its familiar warmth. The green-eyed woman glanced once into the mirror but quickly looked away. She wasn't up to meeting her own eyes just yet. The momentary glimpse made her lean against the wall sliding down to sit on the floor.

She'd been sad and glowing at the same time. "Stupid, Stella." She had so many emotions going through her: ones of anger, self loathing, shame, and guilt where those that she had aimed at herself.

Stella was sure that Mac wouldn't remember anything in the morning. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him drunk there had been the fourth of July party that Claire... Claire. Stella's chest tightened with grief and guilt. What the hell was she thinking a snort of derision filled the room, 'I wasn't thinking it was all hormones and lust.' That wasn't entirely true she was in love with her partner, best friend, boss and dead friend's husband. An unreasonably it hurt that it was Claire's name that Mac Taylor cried out to at such a moment. Her mind and heart fought over whether to be forgiving. Stella was noticeably not Claire Conrad Taylor their hair though both dark brown Claire's had been less curly than hers. Their eyes weren't even the same color hers were a light green while Claire's had been a lively blue. Their body types were very different Claire's being that of a runner whereas hers was of a former dancer. Their voices were distantly not the same Claire's revealing her time spent in Chicago where as her own was an odd accent of New York and self taught Greek and Italian.

In the end she didn't have it in her to be mad at Mac. He had been drunk and being use to waking near a warm female body must have stirred a need to be loved.

Stella Bonasera could have stopped the entire thing. She hadn't been that far gone that she couldn't have done something to get out of the position they'd been in. She was a New York cop and a girl from the orphanage there were ways of getting out any kind situation. The fact was that she hadn't really wanted to until the end when he'd called for his dead wife. Forgiving wasn't one of her strong suits but was it Mac or herself. At that moment she didn't want to try and figure it out. The morning was soon enough to find out if Mac Taylor would remember or if he would be blissfully ignorant of the activities of the previous night.  
Getting up from the floor Stella tightened the robe further before going out to find some clothes to change into. From her bed the curly haired woman could hear the snores of the man who she'd promised to take care of. Ignore the feelings that were bubbling inside to go and doing damage to the her unsuspecting partner Stella grabbed sweats from one of the drawers and hurried back to the bathroom.

She would have stayed the rest of the night in the bathroom but for the fact that Mac would wonder what was wrong. Stella slowly got dressed and slipped back out to the couch from her vantage she could make out Mac form as he slept on. It was probably the most sleep he'd seen in months. Sighing softly a tiny smile curved on her lips and vanished quicker than it appeared. She got up, walking quietly over to him she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek then pulled the comforter over his shoulders so he wouldn't get cold.

Stella went back to the couch and settled down there with a spare pillow and afghan. She gazed over where the most important man in her life slept. Eventually, her eyes drifted shut into a dreamless sleep.

Continued in Chapter Three: The Well Being of All


	4. The Well Being of All

Disclaimer: I don't in any way own the series CSI. Those are the sole property of Anthony E. Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer, CBS and Paramount Home Entertainment.

~~~@~~~

The crisp morning glow streamed in through curtains lighting on the spot where Mac lay under the covers. Red bleary eyes blinked open, only to be squeezed shut under the glare of the overcast sky which continued to snow lightly outside.

The dark haired man groaned as the pain roared in his head, in combination with sensitivity to light was noise, which could be heard just outside the apartment walls, the slamming of doors, the stomping of boots, the cries or laughter of children and the occasional rumble of a vehicle passing by. Turning over the detective swallowed convulsively trying to stave off the urge to throw up while re-hydrating his dry mouth. It was a dead giveaway that he was sporting a massive hangover.

Mac shivered as a cool draft seeped through a gap that had been created with his shifting the chill on his bare body had him cautiously opening red rimmed blue eyes once more. At his first inspection, he saw pretty purple flowers of the comforter which was partly covering him; quickly he noticed the fact that his boxers and pants were twisted around his lower legs and adding to his confusion a sticky sensation on his left hand and around his groin, followed by the unmistakable smell of stale sex.

“Okay, Taylor. What did you do?” Pressing his right hand to his temple, Mac struggled to think back to the last thing he could remember. The sight and sound of Stella laughing over some ridiculous movie, the sparkling Christmas tree’s outside his partner’s apartment window. He could also recall telling the curly haired woman about his and Claire’s reason for moving to New York City. Through the liquored fuzz Mac could only recollect a few other images but nothing that could have left him in the state he was now in. He knew the alcoholic amnesia was due to the mixing of beer, wine and whiskey on a half empty stomach, even with Stella urging him to eat more, and going without sleep for weeks at a time.

The niggling sense, combined with what evidence he’d gathered Mac could surmise that he’d done something for which wasn’t just embarrassing but would have long term consequences. Levering himself up, Mac carefully surveyed the area. His blue eyes adjusted to the only light coming from the windows he could barely make out his partner on the sofa across from the bed. Her curly hair was the only part of her that he could see with the large colorful afghan draped over her.

Sighing in relief, Mac was happy to know that part of his memory appeared to be incorrect. It was obvious that Stella had spent the remainder of the night on the couch, and not as his hung over mind perceived, that he might have had a wild bout of sex with his partner though calling her by his late wife’s name. It had all been an alcohol induced dream that he’d physically played out.

Mac moved to climb out of the warmth of the covers his head throbbed from the shifting movement. He stifled a groan the small sound still reverberated ten times louder than it should have. Bare feet planted firmly on the cool wooden floor, Mac leaned forward in an effort to control the pain. Slowly, he took in his immediate surroundings in an attempt to find the rest of his clothes.

In the dim lighting he spotted his t-shirt hanging haphazardly from the arm of a chair opposite the bed. Awkwardly Mac stood pulling up underwear and trousers; he cautiously made his way towards the shirt. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated; he more than once stubbed his toe. Mac stifled more than one curse by the time he reached the offending garment. He leaned on the back of the high back chair. His gaze fell once more on his sleeping partner and was relieved to see that he hadn’t woken her with his stumbling about.

‘Right, now you just need to make it to the bathroom there is no way that you’d make it to the precinct showers, in your present condition.’ Mac would have preferred to have escaped Stella’s apartment without chancing wake her. He was already extremely embarrassed and he knew that it would be less if they were to meet back at work and not in her home.

Mac taking a firmer hold of his pants and sling the black t-shirt over his shoulder so as to keep on hand free if needed. The fore thought was handy as the dark haired man staggered towards the bathroom. Not knowing, Stella’s home as well as his own Mac stumbled and ran into a few more piece of tripped over and almost landed him into Stella’s sleeping form on the couch. Mac caught the back and arm of the sturdy sofa. He cursed as his grip on his trousers loosed and they slide down. Making sure his balance was secure, Mac bent down and retrieved the fallen item and carefully arranged it back into place, all the while never taking his gaze off the woman who slept soundly on. Stella groaned and shifted settling back into sleep.

Mac let out a slow breathe that he’d been holding. He stepped away and as soundlessly as possible made it to the bathroom. Once there Mac quietly shut the door with a soft metallic click of the door. He just stood leaning, head thrown back and eyes closed against the door, reaching over he turned on the light.

Cautiously he opened blue eyes, straightening he tossed his t-shirt in the sink, and then removed his boxers and pants. Uncomfortably, Mac stood naked in his partner’s bathroom examining his clothes and was relieved to note that only his underwear would need to be cleaned.

~~~@~~~

Stella awoke to the sound of a running shower; an inadvertent image of Mac Taylor with steamy water sliding down his nude body came into her mind. She growled angrily at herself that even with what had happened the night before she couldn’t keep thoughts like those out of her head.

Grumbling to herself, Stella pulled the afghan about herself and stood. ‘No use pretending to be asleep when he comes out.’ Besides she was better off knowing sooner rather than later if Mac remembered anything from the other night, but she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

Stella shuffled into the kitchen turning on the light she made her way over to the coffee maker. After putting enough coffee grounds for two in and water the brunette woman set the coffee to perk. She began making breakfast on autopilot while she waited for her partner.

Moving gracefully, Stella unconsciously went through the motion of making breakfast, boiling the water for oatmeal, putting bread into the toaster, retrieving butter, sugar and raisins for the toast and hot cereal. The shower being turned off brought Stella out of her fogged like state, she blinked just realizing what she’d done, “Nice going Stella you just made the man’s favorite breakfast. Who are you trying to impress?” It was too late to toss it out, it smelt delicious and there wasn’t any good reason to throw out perfectly good food. The brunette sighed finishing up buttering the toast, ‘It’s no big deal. I am sure Mac will just take it as another sign that I’m trying to comfort him.’

As the minutes passed and her partner had yet to materialize from the bathroom, Stella began to get nervous and impatient. She strode over to the door and hesitated only a second before knocking. “Are you alive in there Mac?”

“Yeah, Stella. I’ll be right out.”

“The reason I ask is that breakfast is ready.” Stella stood arms crossed, close to the door so she didn’t have to yell.

“Stella you didn’t have too.” Mac’s muffled reply.

“Too late hurry up or it’ll get cold.” Stella said walking away.

The brunette was determined not to appear as if anything untoward had happened. She got her coffee and fixed her own breakfast the way she liked it and began eating waiting for Mac to appear.

Mac sighed as he bagged the wet boxers. He was thankful that he hadn’t made a mess of his pants. Going commando wasn’t something he preferred but what choice did he have, there was no way to get his underwear dry before going out to the patiently waiting Stella. What was one more embarrassment? Stella had at least been asleep when he’d stumbled into her bathroom so he’d at least been saved from that humiliation. Looking up into the mirror, Mac grimaced at the man stared back; he was hollowed eyed with hair a messy mass of curls and a couple days growth of beard. He couldn’t recall ever looking so bad not even when he was a rebellious teenager. Disgusted, Mac left the safety of the bathroom.

At that point he could smell the scent of oatmeal and coffee. He smiled sadly over Stella care of him, keeping him company on one of worst days after losing his wife. Straightening, he pushed away the hurt and anger he wouldn’t think of it. He would try for his partner to have a normal day.

~~~@~~~

“I called Johansen, told her that you’d be late getting into work.” Stella said as she took the dishes away.

“I believe I remember you saying, ‘I promise that you’ll be able to make it in tomorrow without too much of a headache.’” Mac teased as he tied his shoes.

“Yeah well best intention and all that.” Stella replied, having returned to the room. She stood with one hand braced against the wall watching the dark haired man.

Mac looked up into her wary green eyes; he put their expression down to the brown hair woman worrying that he would blame her for his drunken binge. “Look, Stella my getting drunk wasn’t your fault. I promise that I don’t blame you.”

Stella smiled shaking her head curls bouncing at the man who didn’t remember any of what happened the night before. She didn’t know where to be sad or happy. It was way too early for the Chicagoan to move on especially given the deep devotion they’d had for each other. Stella really didn’t know if he would ever be ready. “Thanks. I’m sure it was a one of type of thing.”

“You know me to well. Yeah that won’t happen again.” Mac stood taking the few steps to stand in front of the pretty Greek woman. “Stella, I want to thank you for everything you did last night. I don’t really know how I would have gotten through it.”

He wrapped his arms around in a tight but brief hug. Stella relaxed and let the brief contact comfort pushing the pain of knowing that they were back to being friends and partners. Not that he knew that they had been more for a brief span of time. “It’s not that big a deal. It’s what partners do.”

“Maybe, but I’m glad it was you.” Mac stepped away, giving her arm a brief friend squezze.  
Mac’s cell phone sounded in the quiet. He answer quickly and Stella moved away needing the space to get her emotions back under control.

“I’ll be there in twenty, Johansen.” Mac sighed, his blue bleak. “Even Christmas doesn’t slow down the criminal element.”

“Some people would call that job security.” The green eyed woman joked. She handed Mac his jacket.

“It’s a sad commentary on life when our job security is the intentional death of a loved one.” His voice was rough with pent up anger.

Stella couldn’t help herself she walked over and kissed Mac on the cheek. “Peace on Earth good will toward man. All that has to start with one person showing another that there is always a better way. Unfortunately there are those who were born without conscious and are just plain evil and those are the ones that we are here to make sure don’t bring the rest down with them.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I got to get going. Have a Merry Christmas Stella.” He made for the door, he looked back and gave the brunette woman a genuine smile though it still didn’t reach his eyes before walking out.

Stella had been surprised and glad to see the small display it gave her hope that he was finally starting to really heal. She now had to forget what had happened it wouldn’t be any good to dwell on it. She would continue to look out for him but no more having him at her apartment. Their relationship would have to stay at the office for the foreseeable future.

End


End file.
